


down with the recipe

by thebitterbeast



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, POV Ray Palmer, Past Character Death, i enjoyed writing this but uh i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebitterbeast/pseuds/thebitterbeast
Summary: 5 times Ray and Mick cook for each other + 1 time they (attempt to) cook together.-Prompt: cooking for each other (or Mick cooking to get Ray to take breaks from working)





	down with the recipe

**Author's Note:**

> I planned this out so long ago but never got the inspiration to actually write it. Prompted by [agreatandhonorablesoldier](https://agreatandhonorablesoldier.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

> **one.**

They had been on the Waverider for maybe a week, and Ray was still processing and marveling at the concept of being on a _time ship_! It was all his geeky heart could hope to dream about, even if he did not know how to fit in and gel with his new teammates.

But here was his chance to save people and make a difference!

The only thing not so great about being on the ship was the company. Case in point, the thief walking into the galley as Ray was making himself something to eat. He tensed, almost immediately, and he was pretty sure Rory noticed. He could not help it. The older man was intimidating, and he and his partner clearly did not care for Ray, and so Ray tried to stay out of their way as much as possible.

He kept quiet, hoping the other would let him be, and before he knew it, his food was done. He plated quickly, deciding to eat in his room. He was not running, he was making a tactical retreat.

And then he realized there was too much food. He cast a glance at the thief, who was frowning into the cupboards, and back down at the food.

“There’s extra, if you want,” Ray said before he could second-guess himself. He picked up his plate and exited the galley before Rory could say anything in response.

> **two.**

Everything hurt.

Ray thought he had been tortured before – and he had, more times than he would tell his teammates – but this ache was coupled with a bone-deep exhaustion and he did not want to move a muscle. He should probably have gone to the medical bay and gotten himself healed up, but all Ray had wanted to do was sleep, so he had stumbled to his feet and staggered to his room and fallen onto his bed with a pained groan.

Now his stomach was rumbling and his body was protesting every movement he was making. He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and pushed himself into a seated position, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

“Mr. Rory is outside your door, Doctor Palmer,” Gideon’s voice was soft, as if she knew that anything louder would set his head off again. Which she probably did, since she monitored everything and everyone on the ship. Still, Ray appreciated the consideration.

He was confused at Mick being at his door, though. Sure, he was pretty certain taking a beating for the man had raised whatever little estimation he had had for him. But Mick had already dragged his sorry ass out of the gulag. They were more than even. Weren’t they?

His head hurt too much for him to dwell on it for too long. “Let him in, please, thank you,” he managed to get out. It felt like his jaw was on fire, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the door slide open, and the heavy footsteps of Mick’s boots on the metal floor

And then the sound of something being put down on his table, and a rough, but soft, voice, “This won’t hurt too much to swallow.”

And then the door was sliding open and closed again, and by the time Ray could open his eyes without flinching, Mick was gone. He blinked, bemused and guilty for not having thanked the man.

There was a bowl of soup on his table.

> **three.**

Mick had not said a word to anyone since everything had gone down. Ray did not blame him, but he was becoming worried about the other man. And he did feel responsible for the situation.

After all, _he_ was the one who was supposed to die at the Oculus.

There was nothing he could do to take the loss away. Ray and grief were intimately acquainted. It made one want to lock themselves away from the world, forgetting to eat and to sleep and to take care of themselves. He could help there, make sure Mick was at least eating something while he grieved.

The first day, Mick did not respond to Ray’s knock though Gideon informed Ray that Mick was inside his room. Ray left the plate of food outside his door and walked away.

When he came back, it was still there, and Ray frowned to see that it had not been touched.

  
He kept at it, and for a week, his shoulders drooped at untouched plates and uneaten food. There was an urge to give up, but Ray would not, could not. So he persisted, and finally, on day nine, he returned to Mick’s room to see that the plate was half empty.

Success!

His heart much lighter, Ray kept leaving plates of food for Mick outside the older man’s door for weeks until Mick walked into the galley as he was cooking one day. The other man didn’t say anything, but the nod he gave told Ray everything.

> **four.**

It was like Ray had forgotten how to function indoors. He felt awkward and ungainly, and jumpy. His eyes were flicking from shiny thing to shiny thing, wondering where all the green was, how he would be able to make his next meal, where he would sleep.

Logically, he knew he was safe now. Or as safe as he could be on the Waverider. But he had spent months on his own, and now he tried to hide his flinch when his teammates stood to close to him.

There were moments when Gideon’s voice overhead made him want to cover his ears and retreat back to – not the forest, no, but somewhere else. Somewhere outside where he could run and run and run and not look back.

He stood in the galley, blinking at everything, and feeling too overwhelmed. He knew he should eat, but everything made his stomach churn. The number of times he had thrown up his food since he had been brought back onto the Waverider was equal to the number of days he had been back on Waverider.

Ray turned to shuffle back to his room, and startled to see Mick frowning at him. “How long?” If this had been the forest, he would have been dead three times overs. How could he have been so unobservant?

Mick’s scowl grew slightly and he shook his head. “C’mon.” He pushed past Ray, and Ray noticed that the other man did not touch him. A quick smile flit across and then fled his face as he realized Mick was headed to the cupboards.

“Mick,” he drew out softly, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t…” He trailed off, unsure and embarrassed.

The look on Mick’s face seemed to soften, and the other man pulled out a can. “Soup,” he said, showing it to Ray. “Just soup.”

The tension in Ray’s shoulders loosened, and the smile on his face felt more genuine than any he had given in months. “I can do soup.”

Mick nodded and turned to the stove. Ray’s smile stayed on his face.

> **five.**

Partners! Mick had asked him to be his partner! For real, with the Cold Gun and everything!

Ray knew better than to gush, or talk too much about feelings with Mick. They may have been friends now, - and partners even! – but Mick still was _Mick_. This might have been his way of giving Ray a purpose, but he would not appreciate Ray’s constant thanks or his constant presence.

There was one way Ray knew he could show his appreciation without Mick walking out of the room silently, and it was in his hands.

He reached Mick’s room, and then hesitated for a second.

“Mr. Rory is in his room, Doctor Palmer,” Gideon informed him.

“I know, thanks,” he murmured, suddenly nervous. “I just – could you tell him I’m here?”

That put the decision in Mick’s hand without Ray having to say anything first. He was still a little unsure about his idea, but – the door slid open, and Ray was relieved by Mick’s gruff, “That better not have any fucking leaves in it, Haircut.”

Ray beamed and entered to put the burger and beer on the table. “Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, and his grin widened when he say Mick grimace slightly. “No greens, just pure fat and grease.”

The other man grunted, and Ray rocked back on his heels, nodded once, and turned to leave.

“Bring yourself a beer. I ain’t sharing.”

Ray grinned again, tossing a, “Sure,” over his shoulder.

> **plus.**

Was he stress cooking? Yes.

Was he going to confront _why_ he was stress cooking? No.

Of course, that would be the moment the reason he was stress cooking walked into the galley. Ray paused, eyes wide for a second as he considered whether he could bolt before deciding that no, he could not, and really, that would be weird. Instead, he beamed, wide and fake and bright. “Hey, buddy, you hungry?” He turned back to the stir fry he was making to avoid looking at Mick for too long.

Not too long ago, he had seen another version of Mick die, and he was still reeling.

What a time to figure out his own feelings. What a _way_ to figure out his feelings.

“Haircut, ‘m always hungry.” There was a bit of a chuckle in Mick’s familiar voice, and Ray grinned down at the food. He could do this. He could put his feelings to one side and just be glad his friend was alive and okay and here.

He felt Mick approach him, and was unsurprised when the man looked over his shoulder and grunted in annoyance at the contents of the pan. “Veggies,” he said in disgust.

Ray laughed slightly. “Alright, then, what would you add to this?” He narrowed his eyes challengingly at Mick. “Adding in,” he emphasized. “Not taking out.”

Mick glared back, before huffing out a breath. “Gideon,” he said without taking his eyes off Ray’s face. “Where’s the kosher bacon?”

“In the refrigerator, Mr. Rory.”

“Thanks.” Mick raised an eyebrow at Ray and turned to the refrigerator. Once he had the bacon in hand, he began to chop it up into small pieces.

Ray watched him work from the corner of his eye, absent-mindedly giving the stir fry a toss. “That it?”

Mick was back at his shoulder, once again staring at him intently. “More than enough to save that mess.” He threw the bacon into the pan.

Ray made an affronted noise at Mick’s words. “I have been slaving really hard over this mess, thanks.”

Mick snorted. “And I just made it better.”

Ray scowled and turned back to the pan to mix the bacon in properly. He lowered the heat and covered the pan, and when he pulled away from the stove, Mick was staring at him again, carefully. “What?” Ray asked warily.

“You gonna talk about it?”

He wanted to play dumb, but Mick was probably the one person on the ship who would not believe him. “It’s not important.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Mick sounded angry. But it was not at Ray, not really. He knew what Mick sounded like when he was really angry, and this was not it. “You keep saying my feelings ain’t invalid. Well, yours ain’t either.”

“You _do_ listen to me,” Ray smiled, but it was half-hearted and he knew Mick could tell. He sighed, letting the smile drop. “It’s fine, really.”

Mick scoffed and crossed his arms across his chest. Ray’s eyes dropped to the spot where the icicle had been driven through the Other Mick’s heart and he winced slightly. “Sure,” Mick drew out, noticing where Ray was looking. “You’re fine.”

“I’m not the one who saw a version of themself die,” Ray snapped back. “Other me was already dead, to no one’s surprise.”

“Glad that didn’t happen,” Mick muttered instantly, and Ray noticed one of his hands clench.

Ray stepped away, needing the space. He rubbed a hand on his face wearily. “It’s fine. We’re fine. The team’s fine.” He shrugged, aware he was repeating himself. “It’s all fine.”

Mick snorted again. “No, it’s not.” He hesitated, and then let his hands fall to his side. “If you want a hug,” he said awkwardly. “I won’t hit you. Just this once.”

It startled a laugh out of Ray, albeit a weak one. “Can I raincheck on that?” It was too much for how he was feeling.

“One time offer only.” But then Mick seemed to hesitate, and Ray watched as Mick seemed to consider something. And to Ray’s surprise, Mick reached out, slowly, and drew Ray into a loose embrace. Ray let him, too shocked to do anything.

The warmth of Mick’s body, the reassuring beating of his heart again Ray’s own chest had the taller man sinking into the hug, lowering his head to Mick’s shoulder. He trembled then, the fear and the shock and the despair fighting to come out in desperate sobs he held back. Ray held on tight to Mick, let himself hold the man he loved for a second, and then locked everything away and pulled back.

He smiled weakly at Mick, ready to laugh off his semi-breakdown. The look in Mick’s eyes stopped him, caught him, and his breath caught in his throat. Mick frowned, and Ray opened his mouth to ask what was wrong –

And was cut off by Mick pulling him back close and pressing their lips together.

It was a chaste kiss. At first.

Then Ray made a sound at the back of his throat, and Mick almost desperately deepened the kiss.

A sudden alarm had them breaking apart, panting slightly. Ray’s eyes were startled and wide as he stared at Mick. The older man was composed and steady, and Ray felt himself calming. He looked over to switch the alarm off, reluctantly removing himself from Mick’s arms and switching the fire off. Taking the lid off the pan, he laughed and shook his head.

“So much for better.”

Mick stepped close to Ray, a hand deliberately placed on his back. He looked into the pan at the burnt mess that used to be stir fry, and Ray could feel him shrug. “Oh, well.”

And then he steered Ray to face him again and pulled him into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me over on [tumblr](https://ankahikoibaat.tumblr.com/).


End file.
